


One Night in Bucharest

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-08
Updated: 2006-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romania: August, 1993. An English farmhand meets an attractive stranger in a pub. Little do they know they are both haunted by the same man from their past.</p><p>~10,000 words. NC-17. Non-magical AU. Threesome. Past student/teacher. Thanks to schemingreader and rexluscus for the beta work. January 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Bucharest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [busaikko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/gifts).



Cold. _Damp_. And weird – don't forget weird. Charlie Weasley pulled his collar up over his ears and hunched down a little in his chair, eyes surveying the dingy pub. Cold, damp, and weird described this place perfectly – the pub, and bloody Romania as a whole. He lit another cigarette and gestured for another beer.

A sullen waitress made her way over after fifteen minutes or so, glowering at him for wasting her time. She muttered something unintelligible to him that he decided meant, "Hello, handsome! Another beer for you?" so he nodded and pointed at his empty glass. Stupid fucking language. Might as well be Martian, for all the sense he could make of it. She ambled away, and had he been so inclined, he might have sneaked a peek at her shapely backside in that short skirt.

But Charlie Weasley wasn't so inclined.

Six fucking months in this hellhole, and the best he could do was a blow job from one of the local stable boys. Had to be careful in these parts. They didn't take kindly to strangers, and they would likely get the shotgun out for strangers who messed with their boys. Not that the kid was that young or anything; had to have been at least sixteen. Charlie was only a year out of school anyway, so what was the crime?

His fresh beer arrived, warm and faintly greenish, but he slugged it back anyway. Beat hanging out at the farmhouse with that crew of hippies from South Kensington, at least. The locals weren't so bad, as long as they didn't talk to him – and most didn't. They had stared a bit at first, but now they seemed content to let the crazy foreign kid drink his beer and mull over his life.

_Don't waste your life. You have talent._

_Yeah, at what – riding you all night? All right, I've got stamina. That isn't the same as talent._

_You filthy, whoring little – _

_Fuck you! Maybe I don't want to be some greasy chemistry teacher – just waiting for my stupid Nobel Prize and fucking my students in the meantime_.

Stupid beer. Stupid memories. He tipped the stein up, letting the meaty last dregs of ale wash down his throat. Ah, what did it matter? That was ages ago, in a different country, and a different life. He had a job here, and responsibilities. Those cows weren't going to milk themselves, and damned if the Romanians knew how to do it. No use getting all soppy over the past.

_"Scuză-mă , este o hotel apropiat?"  
_  
Charlie jerked his head around. That wasn't Martian. That was someone trying to speak Martian, and failing. His eyes landed on a man at the bar, attempting to make the shape of a hotel with his hands, but succeeding only in frightening the waitress. His eyes trailed down, and back up. That was a very fine arse, and very strong hands, and very broad shoulders, trying and failing to speak Martian and frightening the waitress, Charlie concluded.

"She doesn't speak English," Charlie called out, a smirk on his face. The other patrons glanced at him before shaking their heads and returning to their own conversations.

The man at the bar turned, a frown on his face. "Thank you, I know that," he replied, polite calm clearly attempting to mask slight irritation. "I'm doing fine in Romanian." He turned back to her and continued gesturing.

Charlie smirked to himself for another moment, watching the man fumble to make himself understood. "Not so sure about that," he called again. "Think you've just told her she has great baps, and what does she think about taking a roll out back with you?"

The man coughed, put a hand up to the waitress to ask her to wait just a moment, then stalked over to Charlie's table. "If you don't mind," he said through gritted teeth, "I'd quite rather you shut the hell up."

"Ah, relax," replied Charlie, leaning back in his chair. "What's your hurry, anyway? Grab a beer and have a seat." He kicked the chair out across from him and nodded. "Looks like you could use some English company."

The man paused. "It's late, and I need to find a hotel for the night. I've slept in some odd places in my day, but the floor of a pub in Wallachia doesn't sound too tempting right now." He sighed and looked around, and Charlie kicked at the chair again, giving the man a wide grin.

"Come _on_," he teased. "I've got a hut not far from here, if you pass out." He winked and held his hands up, surrender-style. "Promise not to molest you." He gave a full-bodied laugh to let the man know he was joking. He wasn't joking. He shouldn't make promises like that, not to a man this attractive.

But it seemed to do the trick, and the man took a deep breath, let it out in a resigned huff, then offered Charlie a small smile as he plunked down into the chair. "You win," he said, leaning back, and Charlie noticed the man surveying him for the first time, eyes taking in Charlie's dirty, button-down shirt and rolled-up sleeves, the day's growth of auburn stubble on his face, and the curling black and green ink trailing down his forearm. "Remus," the man offered, hand out.

Charlie shook it, lingering just long enough before pulling his hand away. Just long enough to let him know, if he wanted to know, but not to be noticed, if he wasn't going to notice. "Charlie," he replied softly, and the man smiled.

"That a snake?" Remus nodded towards the trail of ink, and Charlie followed his eyes, rolling his sleeve up further.

"Dragon," he corrected, showing off his favourite tattoo, the mythical beast that lived on his bicep, wings outstretched and tail curving down below his elbow.

"Ah. They say this used to be the land of dragons," the man – Remus – observed, glancing around the pub.

Charlie laughed. "Dragons and vampires and werewolves, right?"

"Something like that. It's quite a country."

"You been here before, then?"

Remus nodded. "I come and go."

"That so." Charlie made an effort to gesture at the waitress again for more beer. "So where're you coming from now–" He paused – "And where're you going?" Blue-grey eyes were watching him now, closely, from across the table, and Charlie shivered. Oh yes, Remus had understood the handshake, all right, and Charlie decided right that second that he would not rely on a stable boy's sloppy mouth tonight. No, tonight he would have this man, naked and writhing in his bed.

"Moscow, Voronezh, Kharkov, and most recently, Odessa."

All right, the man's Romanian may have left something to be desired, but his Russian and Ukrainian were clearly sharp, and Charlie felt a jolt down his spine at the way the rolled _r_ and the meaty _kh _and the bent _e_ slipped off his tongue with a Slavic accent. "Oh yeah?" he managed, his throat going dry. "Trying to catch all the revolutions, then?"

Remus laughed. "I suppose so. Certainly seen enough in the past few years. Think I'm about done with them now, though."

"Hope you didn't miss ours." Charlie shook his head. "They tell me it was the best one."

"You weren't here for it?"

"Nah. I just got here last winter. Finished school and had nothing better to do."

"Nothing better to do than follow the trail of political bloodshed to dragon-land?" Remus quirked an eyebrow.

"Something like that," Charlie replied, grinning. "Nah, I do horses and cows, mostly. Some ex-pat operation that's convinced if only the farmers of Eastern Europe knew how to get their shit together, revolutions wouldn't happen." He shrugged. "Fuck me if I understand the logic, but it's a paycheque, and outside work on sunny days, so I don't complain too much." He paused to shake another fag out of the pack and light it. "Not like I had much going on at home." His mind drifted at that, for a brief moment, to a crisp black suit crumpled on the floor next to his jeans, to long black hair falling over his back, to desperate moans as he fisted the sheets and buried his head in the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second to block the image out.

The pouting waitress had brought them more beer by then, and they toasted Romania and drank heartily.

"Just here for the night, then?" Charlie ventured, the alcohol beginning to affect his sense of understatement.

Remus nodded. "Mm. Got a job offer up north, a school in Scotland. Making my way back there."

"Scotland? That's where I went to school."

"Scotland's a big place."

"Bet it was the same school."

Remus chuckled and reached for the pack of cigarettes, pausing to raise his eyebrows for permission, then shaking out a fag. "Got a light?" he asked, his voice quiet amidst the dull roar of the busy pub. Charlie flicked his lighter and leaned forward, cupping his free hand around the flame to guide it, as Remus inhaled deeply. "Now why would you think it was the same school?" he asked, turning his head away to exhale.

Charlie bit his lip. "Just that you look like the sort who would be a successful teacher at a place like that." _And considering what the teachers are known to get up to, I hope I'm right_.

"That so." Charlie found his eyes glued to the man's lips as he lifted the cigarette rhythmically up to inhale, and down to exhale. "You know, Charlie, I'm feeling a bit tired. Might have to take you up on that offer to sleep on your floor."

There it was: the handshake acknowledged. Their gazes locked, as the smoke trailed expectantly up in a heroic twist from two matching cigarettes.

_Another teacher conquered_, Charlie thought wryly, before stamping out his fag and draining his beer. "Happy to have the company," he replied in a low voice. He made his way to the door, blood racing in anticipation as he felt breath on the back of his neck from the attractive stranger behind him.

~~~~~

 

Romania. God and fuck, why he had bothered stopping here, Remus would never know. He'd had enough of this country to last a lifetime, always teeming with bored hot-shots from Bristol or somewhere, taking advantage of the backpacking trend behind that famous Iron Curtain. Hoping for a piece of the Wall to bring home and jerk off to with their friends, every one of them. Rude, arrogant, and pissing off the locals at every turn, giving every other Westerner a bad name – even the ones who had been here twelve years. He grimaced as he made another attempt with the waitress, trying to ignore the amused eyes of the redhead in the corner.

_"Îmi pare rău. Vorbesc numai puţin româneşte…"_ Two years in Russia, and his Romanian just didn't work right anymore. Fuck.

She rolled her eyes, and rightly so. What did she care? He wasn't her problem. She was probably making 50p a day at this gig, on her feet for fifteen hours, and then forking it over to her father. She didn't care that he had been on an overnight train from Odessa, held up at the Ukrainian border for six hours while they checked his papers and growled questions at him about his activities in Moscow. ("What you running from in Russia? You have _bandity_ after you, yes? Steal some guns? All you English the same – bring guns to Bucharest and think we don't know. We don't need you! Listen. Steal our guns. Steal our Ukrainian girls. You tell your English we don't need you." Et cetera, et cetera.)

Well, the bloke wasn't half wrong. They didn't need him, wandering around their shattered country, looking for somewhere to live that was even worse than what he had left, back in England. Didn't get much worse than a jealous former lover blowing up your friends' house to get back at you for leaving, though. Not even Odessa was as bad as that.

_"I've got a new teaching job, come with me up north."_

_"You know I won't. I can't."_

_"It's a different school now – not the same one you were at with him."_

_"With you, you mean. And it's exactly the same. What am I going to do there, be some chemistry teacher's apprentice?"_

_"Be some chemistry teacher's partner."_

_"Oh yeah? You'll get fired if you tell them that. And we'll both get thrown in jail for sodomy. No thanks. I'm going to Budapest." _

_"Just – wait. I don't– want you to leave."_

_"You should have thought of that before you sold him the nitroglycerin."_

"She doesn't speak English," an amused voice rang out in the crowd, and Remus fell back into the present, to the dingy pub that asked too many questions. He didn't even have to turn around to know it was the redhead in the corner who had spoken, but he turned anyway. Leave it to him to find the only pub in the Danube basin with an English bloke in it, and a chatty one at that. Christ.

"Thank you, I know that," he called back, trying to be polite. "I'm doing fine in Romanian," he added, hoping that would be enough to get the kid to leave him alone.

It wasn't.

More jibes came from that corner, more taunts, and just as Remus was about to lose his temper, just when he felt like knocking the kid over and kicking him in the stomach for being such an irritating little shit, he noticed something. The kid wasn't trying to be irritating; he was trying to flirt. The things men did together that would get you thrown in jail in England would get you _shot_ in this part of the world, that much he had learned in the past few years of travelling here. That redhead wasn't bad-looking, Remus noticed now as he turned to respond to the latest heckle, but he better know how to be discreet.

He sighed. What the hell. The waitress wasn't exactly rushing to offer him accommodation, and if he was discerning enough, he shouldn't have any trouble with this kid. Didn't look like a planted spy, at any rate, though who knew what sorts the police were employing these days to trap men like him? He hadn't been here since before '89; a lot of things were different now, and not necessarily for the better. He would have to be careful.

After some brief banter Remus took a seat at the redhead's table and held out his hand. "Remus," he offered, deciding that the kid wasn't quite worthy of a last name. He would reevaluate that opinion in the morning, if he was still in one piece.

"Charlie."

_Charlie_. The handshake took a fraction of a second too long, in just the right way, and Remus suppressed a smile. His eyes roved over the kid now, taking in his tanned forearms and the healthy dip of neck and chest his button-down shirt revealed. His face and arms were freckled, giving him a permanently youthful look, but his red hair had grown into an adult's auburn, suggesting he might actually be of age. That would be nice.

It was the tattoo that did him in, though. Once Charlie rolled up his sleeve and offered him that beautiful dragon, wings spread as though it could take flight at any time, as though the mere absence of reality was not enough to stop it – Remus was lost. He would see that inking up close tonight, and the one on Charlie's back, as well – probably an Aztec sundial, or a few Mandarin or Hindi characters that looked suggestive but meant nothing to the owners – those were all the rage these days, for kids Charlie's age. Oh yes, he would see it, and taste it, and scratch across it as Charlie moaned underneath him.

"You know, Charlie, I'm feeling a bit tired. Might have to take you up on that offer to sleep on your floor."

It had been a long day, and a tough road from Odessa. He had earned this much, at least.

* * *

 

Charlie unlocked the door and set down his keys, shrugging out of his jacket and glancing back at the man following him inside. He seemed anxious. "What?" he asked. "Floor look too cold?"

Remus watched him carefully for a moment, then looked around the hut. "No," he began, "it looks fine." He raised his eyes again to Charlie, and held the gaze. After a few intense seconds he spoke again, softer this time. "You a spy, Charlie?"

Charlie felt his eyebrows shoot up. "No…" he answered slowly. "Why…?"

"Because there are men in this country who invite other men home with them, then detain them till the police arrive." Remus crossed his arms over his chest and gave Charlie a pointed look.

Still careful, though, Charlie noted. Remus had still not, technically, given away whether or not he was a man who could be trapped in such a way. "I break horses and milk cows," he replied. "If I were a spy, I'd try for a better gig than this shit town." When Remus still didn't move, Charlie took a gamble. Raising his fingers to his top button, he slowly began to unfasten it, then trailed down to the next one, and the next, until his shirt hung open, exposing his flat chest and stomach, honed by his work on the farm. "See?" he whispered. "Now it's me on the line, yeah?"

Remus moved then, advancing on Charlie and pushing him backwards into the wall. His palm rested on Charlie's bare chest, his eyes fierce. "You often pick up men in that bar and bring them home?" he whispered dangerously in Charlie's ear, and the younger man felt his blood race at the low voice and the man's proximity to his body.

"Yeah," he sneered, "all the time. Every night, in fact." He pushed back, dislodging himself from the wall, and gaining a brief advantage in strength over Remus. He closed his fist over the material of Remus's dark shirt and leaned in close. "That a problem for you?"

Remus smirked. "You've got attitude, Charlie."

"I don't see you complaining."

"No," Remus breathed, running light fingers down Charlie's chest. "I've no complaint." He moved a hand behind Charlie's neck then and caught his gaze, then crushed their mouths together.

Charlie felt his fingers clench in the fabric of the man's shirt as his lips parted helplessly. This man was strong, deft, and knew exactly what he wanted. No more messing around with teenagers; Charlie should have known that once he'd had an older man, he could never go back. The kiss intensified as Charlie felt his mouth ravaged by those lips he'd watched in the bar, tinged with smoke and ale, Remus's tongue hot and wet against his own. The blood quickly drained from his upper body as he held on to Remus's shirt for dear life, sucked down into the emotion of kissing a man who knew how to kiss, and knew how to kiss so well his partner would be reduced to a whimpering mess.

When he finally broke it off, Remus whispered in Charlie's ear again, his chest heaving against Charlie's as they backed into the wall. "Not a spy?"

"No," Charlie gasped.

"Not looking for money?"

"No. God, just–" He tried to lean in for another kiss, but Remus held him off.

"I've got condoms if you've got lube," the voice whispered, and Charlie thought his knees might give out. Lube. _Lube_. Hell yes, he had lube. No wank was worth the effort without it – his high school chemistry teacher had taught him that much.

"Yeah," he replied, his head spinning. "I've got lube."

Remus's hands were in his hair, his mouth exploring Charlie's neck and left shoulder, pulling the shirt off. "You eighteen?" he asked, and Charlie felt the smile on his bare skin.

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm eighteen, and I'm not the police, and I just wanted to fuck you, all right? Simple motive for getting you in here."

That mouth bit hungry kisses along Charlie's neck and up his jaw line, pausing again for another question. "How thick are these walls?"

"You a screamer?"

"Depends how good you are."

"I'm good," Charlie assured him. "Don't worry about that. And they're not quite as thick as I'd like, so you better keep it down."

Those lips found his again, and Charlie groaned, hands hooked into Remus's belt, pulling him in close. God, he could lose himself in those lips, soft and warm, urgent but careful against his own, sending heat out to every nerve in his body. "One more thing," Remus breathed when they broke apart again.

"God, you talk a lot. What is it _now?_"

Remus smiled. "I top," he whispered, pushing Charlie's shirt all the way off his shoulders, letting it puddle on the floor, then pulling his own over his head. When he pressed his bare chest against Charlie's, the younger man couldn't help but reach around and grab his arse, pulling their hips together and moaning at the friction. Grinding against him, Remus grabbed Charlie's wrists and lifted his arms over his head, pinning them against the wall in a shameless pose of need.

Charlie closed his eyes and lost himself, his body alive in ways it hadn't been since he'd left the last man who made him feel this way.

~~~~~

 

_"Detention, Mr. Weasley." The other students had filed out of the room by then, and the teacher leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "My flat, eight o'clock tonight. Don't be late, or you will be punished."_

_Charlie glared at him. "It's graduation tonight," he reminded him. "I've got plans with my friends."_

_The low voice ghosted against his ear. "Break them," it whispered._

_The heat shot through Charlie's body like an arrow, causing his stomach to flip and his fingertips to prickle. His cock was suddenly hard as nails. "Fuck," he whimpered._

_"Quite."_

_At eight o'clock that night, he knocked on the door. No more than five minutes later, his clothes were in a heap on the floor and he was flat on his back in his teacher's – no, _former_ teacher's – bed. He slowly fisted himself as he watched his lover slip a condom on, unrolling it with care as he eyed Charlie from under hooded lids._

_"You're disgusting," he moaned a moment later, hooking his legs over the man's shoulders and grasping for the headboard. "Sick fucking pervert, taking advantage of students this way…"_

_"Hogwarts' star footballer," the older man murmured as he breached him, thick cock sliding into Charlie inch by inch as Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and let his mouth fall open in pleasure. "Won't go out with the head cheerleader, and can't get the other lads in the locker room to fuck him." He paused, fully sheathed, and reached up to caress Charlie's cheek. "Has to beg for it from his chemistry teacher, of all people." He pulled back, paused again, then thrust in hard.  
_  
_Charlie gasped, clutching at the bars of the headboard and biting his lower lip. "Harder, fuck, just–" There was nothing in the world like getting fucked by this man, taunting him and insulting him and taking the taunts and insults in return, until both their bodies were hot with blood and anger, surging and swirling together to climax. "Like hell I– begged you," he panted, pushing his hips up to meet the thrusts. "I can get it anywhere… don't need– you– _God_, Severus…"  
_  
_He knew they couldn't continue this; he knew he had to leave. But for this last night, Charlie could give himself up entirely, let go, pull that taut body above him down, inside, riding him deep and hard. It was explosive; it was dangerous; it was everything Charlie could imagine wanting from a man. He came hard, shouting his lover's name and feeling the pulses of the man's release inside him, and he never wanted to be anywhere else._

_Which meant he had to get away, as quickly as possible.  
_   


~~~~~

 

"You a spy, Charlie?" The question surprised Remus when it came out of his mouth. He didn't want to risk alienating the kid by making a light-hearted romp into some secret police porn thriller, but it was important that he gauge Charlie's reaction. Things worked differently here. You couldn't be too careful.

"No…" Charlie replied, looking momentarily confused. Good sign. So he really was just a randy kid looking for a fuck. Excellent. When Charlie unbuttoned his shirt to prove it to him, Remus had to bite back a groan. God, he was thirty-three years old; it had been ages since he'd been with someone Charlie's age, all firm muscles and taut lines. His eyes trailed down Charlie's chest and stomach appreciatively.

"You often pick up men in that bar and bring them home?" He had moved closer by then, his hands reaching out to touch that chest and push it against the wall, his breath hot in Charlie's ear.

"Yeah, all the time. Every night, in fact."

Remus smiled at the attitude. Hot-blooded, this one was. Any man with a tattoo like that dragon was bound to be a bit reckless, a bit risky, and have a bit of an attitude. He pressed the kid into the wall and kissed him thoroughly, gauging how quickly and easily Charlie would part his lips and kiss back, allowing the invasion of Remus's tongue on his own and reciprocating. It wasn't difficult at all; Charlie was a willing partner, and from the looks of things so far, a more than able one.

A bit more banter, then getting the nuts and bolts out of the way: condoms, lube, who tops. That's settled. Remus felt a shiver run through Charlie when Remus whispered his preferred position in the younger man's ear. He held Charlie's arms over his head against the wall to check his amenity to a bit of submission. Good. They were both shirtless now, and Remus could feel his response to this kid growing, his cock hardening and his need building as he let his lips roam over the kid's neck, shoulders, jaw, mouth. Dangerous, to let go like this, in a seedy ex-pat camp outside of Bucharest with someone he barely knew. It wasn't something he did very often, but it was something he could no longer contemplate walking away from.

He let one hand trail down to Charlie's jeans, tearing them open deftly and wrapping a hand around the man's hard cock. He relished Charlie's groans in his ear as he stroked, determined to keep the upper hand, to let him know who was in charge here. When he didn't think he could stand to ignore his own need anymore, he released Charlie's arms above his head and unfastened his own trousers, shoving them down and pushing his cock into Charlie's. The younger man's head strained back into the wall at the friction, and his hand dropped down to help Remus, both of them stroking together.

Remus leaned in to kiss him again, Charlie's lips reddened and parted and alluring as all hell. The growth of the auburn beard rubbed Remus's jaw like sandpaper, spiking the energy in his spine and pushing more blood to his cock. God, this kid was sex on a stick, a walking incarnation of every dirty fantasy Remus had entertained for years, ever since –

No. That didn't matter now. _He_ didn't matter anymore. There was only this moment, with this kid writhing against him and pushing their cocks together so warm and hard, Remus had to concentrate on not losing control too quickly.

"Clothes off," he rasped in Charlie's ear. "Bed. Now."

His hair tousled and his face flushed, Charlie obeyed without a word, stripping off the rest of his clothes and swaggering over to the bed, pausing to grab a jar of lubricant from the drawer of the bedside table. He turned to toss it at Remus, a diabolical smile curving those stained lips.

Remus followed, pushing Charlie down on his back and wasting no time spreading his legs. He knelt in front of him, mouth working down the younger man's chest, then lower. When he took Charlie's cock in his mouth, he let the taste wash over him and Charlie's moans echo in his ears. The younger man grasped Remus's hair, pushing his mouth down just a bit too hard as need overtook him, and Remus smiled to himself. He released Charlie's cock and worked his way lower, teasing the man's entrance with his tongue and fighting to keep his own arousal in check.

The taste and smell of youth, the feel of strong hands on his back, the sound of unabashed moans in his ear… he hadn't made love like this in years, in dangerous shadows with men he shouldn't want. Not years, not since he left his best friend for the dark side.

~~~~~

 

_"You shouldn't sneak around, Lupin. It's unbecoming of you. And the guilt is going to kill you, by the way." A trail of smoke wound its way up from a cigarette carelessly clasped between two fingers, rested against the forehead of a face staring up at the ceiling. "_Tell him_, for God's sake."_

_Remus paused in his tongue's ministrations to a nipple, rolling onto his back beside his lover. "I did," he said quietly. "Last night."_

_"And?"_

_"And…" Remus grabbed the cigarette and took a drag, handed it back, then continued. "He didn't take it well. Thinks it's James," he added, "the one I'm sneaking around with."  
_  
"Potter?"_ An incredulous voice, then a pause. "Are you?"_

_Remus turned, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "No! Fuck off, Snape. James is straight as a board, and happily married."_

_"And in a hell of a lot of trouble, if he doesn't come up with that money soon."  
_   
_"Tell your greasy uncle to lay off him! It was a stupid bet; he didn't mean it."_

_Snape glared. "Too bad, _he didn't mean it_. He made it, and he lost. Either he pays up, or he's worm food. Him and that pretty wife of his. Hell, maybe the baby, too, what do I know?"_

_"Then do something about it! Christ, he's my best friend. You'd think sleeping with you would have some benefits." Remus rose from the bed and stomped across the room, grabbing a t-shirt off the chair by the wall.  
_   
_"Family business – you know I can't get involved." Snape sighed, sitting up and taking another drag. "Come back to bed, for God's sake. Look, I'm trying, all right? I told you if you ended it with Black, I'd see what I could do about Potter and that money. So if you really did tell him last night–"_

_"I did! You think I'm lying now?"_

_"–then I'll talk to my uncle and see what I can do, all right? God, you're difficult. Just– come here."_

_Remus reluctantly returned to the bed, sinking down on the edge and waiting to feel Snape's hand on his back. It came a second later, a dry, flat palm running down his spine and soothing his rattled nerves. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why did Sirius have to be so controlling, threatening to kill James himself if he thought for a second that Remus was sleeping with him? And _fuck_ – why did he believe with every bit of his soul that being with Snape was going to be so much better? _

_The palm turned to lips, wet kisses pressed into his shoulder blades and up the back of his neck as warm hands wrapped around his chest and pulled him backwards. He toppled onto Snape's lean body and groaned, their argument already forgotten as he pressed himself into his lover, feeling the immediate hardness and need pulsing between them.   
_   
_He straddled Snape's hips and reached for the lube on the bedside table, and a condom beside it, tearing it open quickly and sliding it down Snape's length. The other man groaned at the pressure, his fists already balled in the sheets, as Remus stroked Snape's cock with lubricant. Preparing Snape like this always did more than enough towards preparing himself; he loved rolling the condom down Snape's cock, blood racing in anticipation of burying it inside himself a moment later._

_Remus positioned himself quickly, the argument having heightened his senses and worn down his control. He slid down carefully, sheathing himself on Snape's cock and feeling the stretching sensation all up his spine and out his arms and legs._ God, fuck. _Sirius was rough; wanted only hands and knees. Never let him do it like this, riding on top at his own pace._

_It was Snape's face that always undid him at moments like these, pushing himself down on that thick cock and watching the gasps of pleasure part Snape's lips and etch his face with passion. Remus always rode him hard at that point, slamming down to meet the upthrust of Snape's hips, their bodies moving together at a frantic pace, sweat and sweet slickness binding them together. _

_He reached down to stroke his own cock, feeling Snape come hard inside him, the depth of their positioning allowing Remus to feel his lover's release more intensely than he could have imagined. He quickly followed, fisting himself roughly until he clenched around Snape's cock and spilled over his hand, groaning with Snape and wondering vaguely why it had taken him so long to find this man. He was so certain that nothing could ever happen to tear them apart.  
_   


~~~~~

 

Remus closed his eyes against the images of his former lover as he bent over Charlie's back now, running soothing hands down the younger man's spine. Snape was a long time ago; Remus was here, now, with an incredibly attractive young man laid out on the bed before him. He wasn't going to ruin that by thinking about Snape.

He had been right: Charlie did have more than just the dragon tattoo. His back was covered in others, as was one calf and the front of one hip. They hit all of Remus's body art kinks, and he found himself laving his tongue over each one as Charlie stroked himself, head back and eyes closed. But now he had hauled Charlie up on his hands and knees, slick fingers exploring, touching, preparing as Charlie bucked against him, every groan going straight to Remus's cock.

"What do you want?" he teased, leaning forward to breathe in Charlie's ear.

"Fuck, just–"

"Yeah." He couldn't wait any longer. He slipped the condom on, rolling it down tightly and holding the base in place as he leaned into Charlie, pushing into his body with slow force. The low, desperate sounds Charlie made tested the limits of his control, but Remus pushed in further, deeper, burying himself in that young body and sighing in pleasure and wonder that the train from Odessa had brought him here, of all places.

He began to thrust, slowly at first, his hips grinding against Charlie in a casual circle that gradually grew rougher, harder, and deeper. He pulled out further each time before thrusting forward again, Charlie collapsing onto his elbows, his head hanging between his arms as his groans intensified. He arched his back and thrust his hips backwards to meet Remus, proving to the older man that just as Charlie had promised, the kid _was_ good.

~~~~~

 

It had been so fucking long, Charlie wasn't sure he could last. This man was even sexier in close quarters, with his clothes coming off, than he had been from a distance, when Charlie had sized him up at the bar.

"I top," Remus had whispered, and Charlie went blank, melting against the wall as his mouth was ravaged and his cock met skin, hardness pressing into him and stroking the coherent thought straight from his mind.

He liked it up against a wall; he always had. Severus used to fuck him that way, back when he used to fuck him at all, hard and fast against a wall, sleeves rolled up and trousers at his knees. But he had no objection to a bed tonight, either. He was in a shit town, with a shit job, and couldn't even get good beer or a decent conversation, yet he had somehow ended up with a handsome stranger in his bed who was now lapping every bit of Charlie's body with his tongue. The thought of complaining about any part of it never crossed his mind.

He let himself be flipped over and guided up on his knees, the sound of the condom opening and sliding on, and of the jar of lube twisting open making him tremble in anticipation. He had dabbled with the locals, and even once, back home, found a centreback from East Fife who was willing to go a round in the locker room with him after a match, when the others had cleared out, but not since Severus had Charlie let a man fuck him. Not like this, on his hands and knees with a cock buried in his arse.

His body opened at once to the penetration as Remus slid into him, the brief burn morphing into intense pleasure as the man established a grinding rhythm. Charlie tried to stay in position but couldn't, collapsing onto his elbows and letting his cheek brush the pillow as the nerves in his body succumbed to the unparalleled sensation of getting fucked by this stranger, in this strange place, on a night – like all the others – when he had expected to be alone.

But with his head buried in the pillow and his body absorbing the thrusts, Charlie's mind drifted away from this stranger, to another body that used to pound into him like this.

_"Detention, Mr. Weasley. Clothes off, Mr. Weasley. _On your back_, Mr. Weasley…"_

Charlie began to groan in earnest, images swirling in his head of Severus rolling up his shirt sleeves, removing his tie, and tying Charlie's wrists to the headboard; hauling him onto his knees and entering him swiftly, pushing inside him just like this, just right, with just enough pressure against his prostate to leave him whimpering with need and desire.

_Severus_, he thought. _I fucking miss you_.

~~~~~

 

Remus clutched at Charlie, fingernails digging into the sundial tattoo across his lower back as he rode the younger man hard and fast. He squeezed his eyes closed and lost himself in the haze of sexual sensation, the slide of his cock into this pliant body, the sound of whispers and moans from the other end of the bed.

_Did Black fuck you like this, Lupin? Did Potter? You whore. Think you can run off to Hungary, or Ukraine for God's sake, and find better cock than this? You are _mine.

Remus gasped, pulling Charlie's hips towards him with rough abandon. _God, stop it, this isn't Snape, that was years ago_.

The Romanian hut dimmed as another scene emerged: Snape pulling Remus on top of him in a hidden flat in London, wrapping his legs around Remus's waist and clawing at Remus's back, urging him inside, making that silent sound with his mouth that always led Remus to lose control.

_Snape_, he thought sadly. _You helped my best friends kill each other, and I still miss you_.

~~~~~

 

What happened next could not have been foreseen by anyone either outside the hut, or within it. It was a warm night, starry and moonlit, with only a soft breeze to mask the moans from the hut as they grew louder and more insistent. But as the men spiralled towards climax and the sounds of sex echoed in the wood, a single word reverberated louder than the others, tumbling from two pairs of reddened lips at the same time as the men's release hit:

_"Severus!"  
_   


* * *

 

Romania. _Both of them_ were in Romania. Snape frowned, pulling his hood up and slouching down in his chair, eyeing his two former lovers across the noxious cloud that hung in the pub. He had come here for Charlie, haunted by dreams of that dragon tattoo and the promise of youth incarnate at his fingertips, at his beck and call – and now he had found Remus as well, caressing a beer stein and eyeing Charlie with a none-too-subtle gleam in his eye.

His mouth felt dry, and his blood began to boil at the realisation that any minute now, the two men would leave together, make for Charlie's hut, and spend the night fucking each other blind. It was inconceivable, impossible, _unacceptable_. They were _his_, both of them. The fact that they had both left him was irrelevant. He was here to reclaim – one, at least. That the other happened to be up for reclaiming as well was simply unforeseen good fortune. Snape intended to make the most of this opportunity.

"You look like the sort who would be a successful teacher," he heard Charlie say to Remus, a sly grin on his face, and Snape's breath caught. Still had the teacher fetish, then.

"You know, Charlie, I'm feeling a bit tired. Might have to take you up on that offer to sleep on your floor."

Snape almost rolled his eyes. They were being careful; that was good. Remus was the expert on this part of the world, not Snape, but Snape knew enough about it to understand that openly picking up a strange man in a bar was the best way to land yourself in jail over here – or worse. To the untrained ear, nothing would happen at that hut but maybe a bit more drinking between new buddies, who would then pass out on the floor. To the trained ear, however…

Snape waited for them to leave the pub, then casually rose, keeping his head down, and followed.

~~~~~

 

There was no way to sneak inside the hut after them without being discovered, and no way to watch through the windows without being seen. They were careful to lock the door and close all curtains tightly, and even dimmed the right lights to keep telltale shadows from marking the curtains with the outlines of the positions being enacted inside. Snape flattened himself against one of the walls, hidden in the shadow of a giant oak tree, and listened.

The air around him hummed with sexual tension, and he found himself using his knowledge of both his former lovers to envision in his head the scene he expected was playing out inside.

Remus would quiz Charlie – always the sceptic, always the careful one. He would make sure they were alone, and safe, before allowing any clothing to come off. Charlie wouldn't – he would have his shirt off and his own hand on his groin in minutes. Snape bit his lip. Never patient, that boy. Always hard, always ready, never patient. Snape could never be arsed to mind, particularly – not when it was he who was permitted to watch that strip show, push Charlie up against the wall, and take him mercilessly until they both collapsed, boneless.

So Charlie would have to reassure Remus, at least a little bit, before Remus would accept the offer – but once he did, there would be no stopping him. Charlie might have thought he had the upper hand when Remus seemed unsure about allowing sex to happen, but he would have been wrong. That was Remus's strength – he let you think you had some sway over him, and while you were off congratulating yourself on your victory, he would charge in and take control, levelling you with one look, and one long lick up your cock. You wouldn't even know when, or how, it had happened, but you would be his forever after that.

Charlie would probably try for it up against the wall, once they had decided to trust each other and get on with the fucking, but Remus would have manoeuvred him towards the bed. Not that Remus minded it quick and dirty, clothes still half-on as they writhed frantically against a wall, but on a night like tonight, after taking the risk of accompanying this stranger to his home, Remus would favour a full night of sweaty lovemaking on a real bed.

Now, once Remus got Charlie onto the bed… Snape pursed his lips, breath coming in short huffs as he sought the next scene in his fantasy. Snape had permitted Charlie to develop a modicum of authority in their bedroom antics, as a means of coaxing a young and confused gay teenager out of his shell, but it never went too far. Part of their sex game was to enforce their teacher/student relationship, which meant giving Charlie orders, and rewarding him for following them. Remus would likely see the same appeal in the young man, and would order him onto the bed, spread out like a feast to be tasted and eventually devoured.

God, he wished he could see it. The thought of watching Remus take Charlie's cock into his mouth was tantalising, a scene he had never envisioned before, but now could not get enough of. Remus would make sure Charlie was prepared, comfortable, begging and moaning on the bed as his tongue explored every surface of that young, firm body, before… would he flip Charlie over? Snape couldn't say. Remus always seemed equally comfortable with a bottom on his back, and on his knees. Perhaps for their first coupling, seeing as how they were, for all purposes, still strangers, Remus would forego the intimacy of making love face-to-face, and would haul Charlie up on all fours, draping himself over that muscled back and pressing hard inside.

Snape was startled out of his fantasy by sounds coming from inside the hut, moans and gasps and _oh fuck yeah_ that told him the scene playing out inside was likely very close to the one in his head. He couldn't help it: he moved one hand to his trousers and slipped it inside, fumbling with his other hand to unfasten them a bit. He closed his eyes at the ease of pressure as he wrapped one hand around his cock, savouring the spikes of arousal pulsing through him with every wafting groan through the walls of the little hut.

His desire grew, the memories of sex with both Charlie and Remus swirling through the haze in his head as he listened to them fuck each other right beside him, on the other side of that wall. Just as his release began to crest, just as images of Remus rutting wildly against Charlie's tight arse shattered in his mind, just as he felt the trigger of his orgasm begin, he heard a name on the wind –

_"Severus!"  
_  
– and he came desperately, folded in two against the outside of the hut, with the cool night air promising the dawn of a new life.

~~~~~

 

Remus was afraid to move.

He lay collapsed over Charlie's back, breath coming rapidly and damp strands of hair pressed against his face. His knees felt weak, his fingertips tingled, and his thighs hadn't had a workout like that in years. The kid had been right: he _was_ good.

Then why had he called out Severus's name? And, more importantly, why had _Charlie?_

Finally, he slipped out of Charlie's body, holding the condom in place before getting up to deposit it in the bin. Charlie let out an incoherent mumble, then flopped down on his back, eyes closed.

"How do you know Severus?" Remus ventured after a moment. "And if you've got any more of those cigarettes, now would be a good time to fetch them."

Charlie opened one eye enough to give Remus an unimpressed glare, then pushed himself off the bed with great effort. "Someone I used to know. Sorry about the name. It was good, with you." He found the pack in the pocket of the jeans crumpled on the floor, and tossed it to Remus.

_Bet it was the same school_.

Remus's stomach flipped over. "Did he teach chemistry?" he asked in a strangled voice, and Charlie glanced at him.

"Yeah. How did–"

From cavorting with criminals to fucking his students, Remus thought sadly. _Of all the gin joints in all of Romania, I have to find the one with Snape's boy toy in it_.

Before he could think on it any further, and before Charlie could ask him the same question about why he, Remus, might be calling out Snape's name during sex, there was a soft knock on the door.

Both men froze, then Remus jumped off the bed and snatched his clothes from the floor, careful not to make a sound. Charlie's face looked terrified, but he had the sense to grab the lube and shove it back in the drawer, then pull a shirt over his head and his jeans back on, before heading to the door. He checked over his shoulder to make sure Remus was safely in the loo, then opened the door.

Remus pressed his ear to the door of the loo; if it was the police, he wagered he could break this window fairly easily and make a run for it. Charlie would have to fend for himself. But the low voice he heard… he would have recognised it anywhere. He opened the door a crack, as quietly as he could, and felt his face flush at the sight of Charlie's head cradled in the hands of none other than Severus Snape, who was kissing him fiercely as Charlie sagged against him.

He opened the door and stepped out, pausing at the far end of the room to watch the kiss. Snape's lips moved softly against Charlie's, a practiced dance that looked so familiar for them that Remus felt his chest constrict. So this is what Snape had been doing – _who_ Snape had been doing – since Remus had left.

"Charlie," Snape murmured, breaking off the kiss, "I'd like you to meet someone."

Remus froze.

Charlie pulled back, glancing back and forth between them with apprehension. "Severus, look, you can't just show up here and expect–"

"Shut up, Charlie," Remus interrupted with a small smile, before stepping forward and grabbing Snape's arm. He whirled him around and cupped a hand around the back of Snape's neck, then leaned in to capture his mouth. He tasted of ale and smoke, and of _Charlie_, sex-soaked and needy, and Remus couldn't help but float into the past, the feel of Snape's lips again, after so many years, like water in the desert.

So much pain, so much gone wrong, and yet Snape still tasted the same. Remus parted his lips hungrily, forgetting for a moment that he had just experienced rather intense and pleasurable sex with another man, as he felt his arousal build for Snape. There had never been anyone who could settle under his skin and heat him like fire the way Snape could – regardless of Snape's allegiances, and betrayal, and lies.

"Okay," he heard Charlie mutter beside them, and looked over to find the kid's eyes wide as saucers. "You two know each other." The blankness of the statement almost made Remus laugh, but he didn't dare. Instead, he stepped back and pulled his shirt off again, levelling Snape with a look he hoped would convey everything in his head, and every direction his cock was currently urging him to go.

"Yes, we know each other," Remus said to Charlie, moving behind the younger man to remove his shirt again and place a biting kiss on the back of his neck. "And yes, you two know each other. Do you want to talk about it all night, or take advantage of the fact that we're all here together somehow, and all _know each other_?"

Charlie paused, then broke out in a wide grin.

"Clothes off, Mr. Weasley," Snape ordered in a low, silky voice, and Remus turned to him with wide eyes of his own. If _that _was how Snape spoke to the kid in the bedroom, no wonder he came screaming Snape's name no matter who was fucking him.

~~~~~

 

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, oh God, how can I not think about it?  
_  
Charlie's brain was alight with fantasies, juxtaposed against the reality that the stranger from the pub – Remus – had just fucked him through the mattress, and the only other man to ever make him feel that good had just materialised on the doorstep. _And the two of them had been lovers_.

Don't think about it.

There was no time for thinking, even had he possessed the brain power for it. They were both here now, both pushing him down onto the bed, both removing their clothes, kissing each other, then sinking down on either side of him, sliding hands and mouths all over his skin and right through him, until he shivered uncontrollably from the onslaught of sensation.

One hand on his cock now, one tongue on his nipple, another cock brushing against his thigh. He closed his eyes and let his blood race, his desire lowered not a whit by the fact that he had already experienced one round of mind-blowing sex that night. When a wet mouth wrapped around his cock, tongue laving the underside of his shaft as a fist gripped the base, Charlie fell back against the mattress and moaned shamelessly. Then there were fingers on him, inside him, pushing and stretching, slick with lube and urgent with need. Charlie felt himself arch his hips and back without even meaning to, inviting the renewed burn where he had already been pleasantly and roughly used once that night.

Through his haze he heard voices murmuring above him, agreeing to something, then lips kissing and mouths gasping, then packages opening and more moans.

"On your knees, Mr. Weasley," he heard Severus call softly, and he bit his lip. God, how had he lived without Severus all these months? He opened his eyes to see Severus stretched out on his back, and rose to his knees as commanded. "Good. Are you ready?" he whispered, and Charlie nodded, his mouth dry. Severus's eyes bore through him. "_Ride me_."

His hips bucked reflexively at the words as he lifted one leg over Severus's hips, straddling him. Remus's hands appeared on his shoulders, guiding him down, as he grasped Severus's prepared cock and positioned it. God, first Remus and now Severus – if only nights like this in the Romanian countryside happened all the time, he thought vaguely as he slid down, sheathing Severus's cock inside him and releasing a deep, low groan at the pleasure of the intrusion.

It was just like before, just like it had been since that very first time with Severus, that first frantic fuck behind his office door four months before graduation.

"Slut," Severus whispered fiercely, and Charlie opened his eyes and glared as he pushed himself up, then slammed back down, relishing the victory of causing Severus's face to etch with desire.

"Dirty. Old. Man," replied Charlie breathlessly as he began to ride Snape in earnest, working his footballer's thighs up and down as he shifted to ensure Severus hit his prostate as they fucked.

"Charlie," another voice whispered in his ear, and Charlie turned his head to find Remus watching them, kneeling at Charlie's back. "Lean forward."

His cock twitched as he did as he was told, not even daring to hope or guess at what Remus had in mind. He leaned in to capture Severus's mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue pushing against the other man's as he felt slick fingers next to Snape's cock, stretching him even further.

"Oh fuck," he moaned. "Are you…? _Fuck_."

It was like nothing he had ever felt before, but that was hardly surprising. The two men that had given him the most sexual pleasure of his young life, joined together within him – it made sense, in a twisted sort of way. He heard Remus slip his own condom on and coat his cock with lubricant, then felt Remus pushing, alongside Severus, both of them _inside him_. The pain of such fullness blinded him for a moment, and he felt the sweat dripping down his face and back.

"Relax, baby," one of them whispered, and they began moving together inside him, two cocks sliding in and out as someone closed a hand around his cock and stroked. His every muscle felt alight as his body tried to keep up with all the sensations surging through it, emotional and physical. Remus's arms wrapped around him and held him up as he impaled himself over and over again on the two cocks, feeling stretched and full and fucked literally blind.

He couldn't last long, not like this. The hand on his cock sped up its pace and he cried out, coming hard and fast over the fist as he squeezed his eyes shut, his thighs trembling and a streak of light shooting up his spine. He struggled to remain upright as Severus and Remus used his spent body to slide their cocks together, quickly becoming more and more urgent until each gave a final jerk, Remus clutching his arms around Charlie's chest while Severus dug his fingers into Charlie's thighs, and they came calling each other's names.

They collapsed into a heap, Charlie no longer able to resist the horizontal pull of the mattress. He had a hundred questions in his head, about what he was supposed to do now, and what it all meant, and did Severus want him back or what, but he also couldn't quite keep his eyes open long enough to ponder any one of them for a great length of time.

As if sensing his thoughts, Remus leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Talking comes later, Charlie. Not now. Maybe not ever."

~~~~~

 

Charlie Weasley pulled his collar up over his ears and hunched down a little in his chair, eyes surveying the dingy pub. Cold, damp, and fucking _weird_; Romania sure as hell hadn't changed a lick in the year he had been there, and the pub hadn't, either. For a country determined that its revolution would actually change something, sure could have fooled Charlie and the cows out in the Wallachian plains. He lit another cigarette and gestured for another beer.

A waitress made her way over, glowering at him for wasting her time. She muttered something to him, and he nodded. "_Nu pîine, chiar bere_," he told her, waving her off. Always trying to push bread on him, that one, when he kept telling her he only wanted beer. Stupid fucking country. He glanced at her arse as she walked away, taking a drag and admitting to himself that it wasn't a bad one, if skinny and female was the sort of thing you went for.

He took his just-collected mail out of his pocket and laid it out on the table. One from mum, that was usual. Every week, like clockwork, old Molly had to tell him all about what he was missing back home, like it was anything exciting. Another from Bill, that was unusual, but welcome enough. And a third… Charlie raised his eyebrows at the stamp: _Hogwarts College_.

Charlie opened that one first and scanned it quickly. Boring stuff about work. Teaching the son of an old friend. Another friend exonerated for something. A new trial. Wasn't nitroglycerine. Charlie's eyes widened. He had heard a little bit about that story from Severus and Remus's past, but not the whole thing. Well, as long as it worked out for them, he didn't figure it was his business. He kept reading.

_Coming down for a visit, maybe after calving season?_

Charlie grinned, dropping the letter onto the table and taking a long swig from his stein.

"_Ce eşti tu fericit_ _despre_?" the waitress teased as she passed his table again. _What are you so happy about?_

Charlie winked at her and picked up the letter, waving it knowingly. "Sex," he replied, and she blushed, running back to the bar and glancing at him over her shoulder. He chuckled to himself and tucked the letter back in his pocket.

Maybe life in Romania wouldn't be so bad, after all.

 

-fin-


End file.
